


From Captain Sandy to Mr. Sands

by Centeris2



Category: Star Stable
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 18:56:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19179394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Centeris2/pseuds/Centeris2
Summary: The story of how a normal fisher became the founder of Deep Core.(Written for Dark Core Day 2018, took me a year to post it OOPS.)





	From Captain Sandy to Mr. Sands

It was a terrible day at sea, the wind and rain tried to rip Captain Sandy from his boat and the waves roared, reaching to pull him under. He couldn’t remember a worse storm to try to fish in, but he only had one more net of fish to pull in, then, maybe then, he would be able to return to the safety of the Jorvik harbors.

If his boat held together long enough to get there.

“Heave, men!” he shouted to his crew, nearly losing his footing when the boat lurched. Impossible! They couldn’t have run aground, they were in deep water! A quick glance confirmed the anchor had not been swept overboard to hook them on something. Had the net caught on something?

This is what he got for fishing in the Krakens Depths, but the fishing was best here. Something about this area made the fish grow larger than normal, and bigger fish made for happier customers.

Not that customers mattered right now, only survival.

“Cut the net!” he shouted to his men, hoping he could be heard over the wailing wind as he struggled with the wheel. They couldn’t hear him, the wheel wrenching from his hands by the force put on the ship, Captain Sandy sent to his face.

The fishing boat was tossed, yanked across the waves but unable to escape from its tether to the depths.

For several moments as long as eternity, Captain Sandy and his crew found themselves underwater, and the water was screaming. Devils in the water thrashed about the boat, eyes shining, teeth pointed and smiling horrible bared sneers.

The eternity was over, the crew scrambling on deck and doing a headcount. Everyone was still onboard. Captain Sandy rushed to the side of the boat, forgetting the net, forgetting the wheel, forgetting the storm.

What was that? Had he imagined it, had he imagined the demons in the water? Was that Death waiting for him if he didn’t escape, or was it something else? He wanted to know. 

“The net!” he shouted again, this time running to the net and stopping his crew from cutting them loose.

“Pull, damn it!” he ordered, joining in the hauling of the rigging, the ship tearing free from whatever held her.

Miraculously, the fishing vessel made it back to port with her crew all accounted for, the storm blowing out to sea as they reached the safety of the Jorvik Harbor. 

“Cap’n! Somethin’ is in the net!” one of the crew, a younger man by the name of Sunstone, called once they were docked. The net had not been fully retrieved, instead left dragging in the water once it was no longer stuck. 

“I’d hope so,” Captain Sandy snapped, his temper short after nearly dying. Nets were for catching fish, there was bound to be some fish in it. But he strode over and looked over the side anyway, freezing in place.

He had seen octopus before, and squid. This was neither of those things. 

“A sea monster!” another crewman, Pike, shouted when he got a better look at it.

“It’s a kraken!” Sunstone cried.

It was indeed a monster. On what Captain Sandy guessed was its head, or at least where its brain was, were eyes. They were orbs of color, no pupils, just wet eyes reflecting the light, over a dozen of them covering the probably-head. And there were tentacles, not eight or ten, but well over a dozen. Twenty? Thirty? He couldn’t be sure in the tangle of the net and flesh. 

He had caught a sea monster. He was going to be rich, he was going to be famous, he was going to be able to put it on exhibition and everyone would know him. Fishing to get by would end. Following in his damned father’s footsteps would end. He wouldn’t be bound to this wretched island of his childhood, a tiny island no one cared about where no one was important. 

“Get a camera! Go to the newspaper!” Captain Sandy shouted to his crew, forgetting the fish he had caught. All that mattered was that monster and what it could get him. He helped get the monster onboard, touching the corpse. It was cold and slimy, black smearing on Captain Sandy’s hand. The eyes twitched and all turned to him. He didn’t know how, that couldn’t be, it was dead. And how would he even know, the eyes were solid, no pupils. And yet… he felt the monster staring at him.

The sun was shining through the clouds when the monster was hoisted up on a winch, Captain Sandy standing with his first mate as the picture was taken for the newspaper. He couldn’t manage a smile, annoyed he was sharing the spotlight of the discovery. He found he didn't want to share it with anyone. This was his find, this should be his story, he should be the only one to get the glory. 

And the eyes. The dead eyes. He felt them watching him. 

He ordered the monster put back on the boat for safe keeping, promising to guard it until the scientists could arrive. It was his monster. He could do what he wanted with it.

That night he sat staring at the tank they had put the monster in to slow the rot. 

Through the wood it was watching him. He could feel the eyes staring through him. 

It was his monster. What if the scientists took it and stole the credit? He didn’t want that to happen. He couldn’t let that happen.

Captain Sandy placed a hand on the tank, looking at the lid, a creeping along his neck. It felt like ants were under his skin, crawling up along his spine, wriggling into his skull. It was the monster. It had to be. But it was dead. How was it still looking at him? How was it doing this? 

However it was doing it he didn’t care. This monster was his ticket out of Jorvik. With the fame it brought him he could travel the world, he would live in splendor and wealth, he’d be able to escape this horrid place he was raised in. 

Captain Sandy jerked up, gripping his head as pain shot through his skull, followed by a hissing in his mind that formed into a single thought:

Escape.

And then there was the screaming from before, the screaming in the water. The screaming clutched his chest, his heart stopping, his lungs straining to move, everything slowly crushing. It wanted to escape. It would help him escape. 

When Captain Sandy opened his eyes the sun was shining, a bright new day welcoming him. Everything hurt, and it took great effort to sit up. The tank was gone.

“Captain! What happened!?” his first mate called, boarding the boat and looking around in horror, wondering what had happened to the monster and why his captain was sprawled on the deck.

“I dumped it,” Captain Sandy said, surprised by his own words.

Yes, that’s right, he had sailed out into deep water and dumped the horrid thing overboard.

“But the scientists! They are going to arrive soon!” his first mate protested.

“Damn thing smelled,” he didn’t know what he was saying, his mouth moving before he could process what was happening. 

Captain Sandy met the scientists regardless, noting their names. There was power in that water, terrible and horrible power. With that sort of power anything was possible. And he knew the scientists would be helpful in getting to it. 

Soon after Captain Sandy handed over his boat to his first mate, determined to get what he wanted. He knew how to escape Jorvik now, thanks to memories he couldn’t recall. But escape wasn’t so important to him anymore, now he wanted what was in that water. That monster had just been a proxy, a sort of relay. Mr. Sands wanted what had created that monster, he wanted the source of that power. With that power, anything was possible. 

 

\---

 

Mr. Sands found himself the lucky winner of a ticket to Europe, and he had no doubt it was fate guiding him. 

Fate, or something he could control. He found people exceptionally easy to read, as if their true emotions were displayed on a bright sign above them. Somehow he knew what to say to a clever inventor at the World’s Fair, how to compliment a wealthy widowed noblewoman, how to charm his way into circles of conversation well above his class. 

And, even more surprising to Mr. Sands, he found himself learning. He was remembering everything he saw and heard, his memory helping him charm and delight new friends, his ability to quickly learn letting him blend in and speak as a local in every country he visited after only a few weeks. 

It was in Egypt, marveling at the great ruins with a group of people too rich and foolish for their own good, that Mr. Sands felt it again.

Eyes that shouldn’t see staring through him, the sense of something crawling under his skin. He became deaf to the conversation around him. All that mattered was finding those eyes. How could it see him? Where was it?

There, someone standing in the market, vibrant red draped around her, hiding all but her eyes. The same staring eyes of the devils in the water, reminding him. He had escaped Jorvik, now he had to help it escape. Had the lap of luxury, living off those he entranced made him forget? How could he have forgotten that power? The power of the nobility and the famous were nothing compared to what was under the water.

The red clothed woman vanished, but Mr. Sands knew she was watching, always out of sight. 

He continued to travel the world, now with clear intent: he needed to know what was down there, he needed to get it for himself. He befriended the rich, tricking them into including him in their wills. He befriended the emerging barons of business, draining them of all their secrets on how to run a successful business. He befriended the inventors, stealing their ideas on drilling, mining, and deep sea exploration. 

And when he had sucked the world dry of its knowledge and wealth, Owen D. Sands returned to Jorvik and founded Deep Core, knowing those eyes were still watching.


End file.
